Crane sat in the conference room with his head in his hands…. and his wrist cuffed to the table. There was still blood under his fingernails. The guard would recover, though, they wouldn't know for sure if his eyesight had been permanently damaged for a while. Jonathan thought he should probably feel sorry about that but he really didn't. What should he have done? The man had assaulted him, it was self-defense. But would anyone even believe him? He was a ward of the state and certified insane. Anything he said would be automatically suspect and then add to it that he was the infamous Scarecrow and well… things didn't look good at all.
He peered up through the fringe of hair that hung loose in his face. Two very tense looking orderlies glared back at him from their positions at the door. Any good graces he might have held had been effectively swept away by the blood on his hands. He only hoped that Bradshaw would be more inclined to listen to his side of the story than the rest of the staff was likely to be. He glanced down at the cuffs around his wrists. He was actually thankful that he was wearing them. The idea of a straightjacket made his skin crawl. He didn't think he'd be able to tolerate that type of confinement very well.
The guards turned as the door opened to a harried looking Bradshaw. He nodded to him and then instructed, "Please wait outside." Bradshaw pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. He offered a muted half smile. "Are you all right?"
Jonathan shrugged, "A couple of bruises. Nothing fatal."
"That's not what I was really asking."
"I know." Jonathan leaned back and waited. He knew what would come next. Bradshaw would want his side of the story. He would have to convince him that his violent action had been justified. Had it? He'd been considering that very question for the last hour. He'd made a very conscious decision to gouge out a man's eyes. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that he had some training. That wasn't all that far-fetched was it, mild mannered doctor by day, super villain with an agenda by night? It would be laughable if it wasn't so frightening.
"Are you sure you're ok?" Bradshaw was studying him. He bristled slightly. This whole situation was making him tense and not in the way one would expect.
"I told you, I'm fine."
"You were just assaulted by a guard. I wouldn't be fine if it happened to me."
Jonathan quirked an eyebrow. "Are you so sure that's what really happened? I'm guessing the guard is offering up something a bit different."
Bradshaw nodded. "Oh yeah. He had quite the inventive tale to tell, of course, now he's back-pedaling as fast as he can. It's hard to lie when you have video evidence."
Jonathan's eyes widened and leaned forward, "What evidence?" The cameras would have noted the guard coming into his room which he could pass off with any number of reasons… then himself, running from the room with blood on his hands. The evidence seemed more damning than anything else.
"Bruce paid for added security for you, remember? That included video surveillance."
Jonathans mind went blank. He didn't know if he should just be grateful or pissed that he was under observation in his room and hadn't been told. "My cell is bugged?"
"Please don't take it as an invasion of privacy. Bruce was only trying to keep you safe and this incident proved out his concerns, unfortunately."
He didn't doubt that was the case. It was obvious that Bruce cared about him… more than he should. "Was this about someone that I hurt?" Guilt welled up inside him. "Was he trying to get revenge?"
"The police are still talking to him. They have the video so whatever his motivation, it's not going to matter much. It was clear he attacked you and you were defending yourself."
Jonathan gave him an unsure look. "I would think that the police would be cheering his initiative."
"You don't really know Jim Gordon. He's the commissioner and he's one of the finest men I know. No matter what happened in the past, he's not going to ignore this. You'll be treated fairly."
Somehow he didn't think that sentiment would have carried if the video hadn't been available but he let that slide. He was just grateful that he wasn't back in maximum security. He nodded, "So what happens now?"
"Well, after Gordon is done with the guard, he'll be in to get your statement." Bradshaw looked at his watch. "I talked to Bruce about twenty minutes ago so he should be here any minute."
Jonathan studied his cuffs. "Of course, you sent for the cavalry."
Bradshaw reached out and placed his hands over Jonathan's. "I'll see about getting the restraints off. What's going on in your head, Jonathan? I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
The door to the conference opened with a swoosh. A man in a rather rumbled looking brown suit walked in, followed by a uniformed officer.
Bradshaw stood and extended his hand, "Jim. It's been awhile… I'm glad to say."
Gordon nodded. "You and me both, Allen."
"Jonathan, this is Commissioner Jim Gordon," he motioned. "He's aware of your current treatment and how well you've been doing."
Gordon expression was unreadable, "It's rather strange to think that you don't remember me, Doctor Crane. You and I have a long history." He pulled a chair up to the opposite side of the table. "Do you want to be here for this, Allen?"
"I should be, yes. We might want to wait for Bruce?" Bradshaw queried. "If you want to have council present as well, I would completely understand."
Jonathan shrugged. "No point that I can see. If you have video, you already know what happened."
"Well, then…" Gordon pulled a small notepad from his jacket pocket. "I just want to confirm a couple of things before we take Mister Banks into custody."
"Did he say why?" Jonathan dropped his gaze to the desktop. This was uncomfortable. "Did I do something to him? Before... when I was.." the words died in his throat. When I was a villain called Scarecrow and liked to watch people die in fear. I believe that's the man you have history with…
Gordon looked over at Bradshaw who nodded slightly. "Actually, it looks like this is about something else."
Jonathan cocked his head. What more could there possible be? "I don't understand."
"I don't know how much you remember or been told about what happened during the terrorist attack on Gotham."
Jonathan looked at Bradshaw, "I know what happened though I don't have all the particulars."
"So you don't remember double crossing the mob?" Gordon offered conversationally.
"The mob?" Jonathan blinked, "What connection did I have to the mob?"
Bradshaw was now looking a bit uncomfortable himself, "Uh, we've only just been discussing the generalities of Jonathan's past. I doubt he's going to be much help," the doctor added, "You're aware of the goal of his treatment."
Gordon leaned over and placed his arms on the table. He met Jonathan's piercing gaze, "So you have no memory whatsoever? Of anything that you did? How convenient."
This is what he had to look forward to for the rest of his life, people questioning his every motivation and action. How tedious. "It's not convenient at all, I assure you." He tried to keep his tone civil. There was no one to blame in all this but himself. "It's hard to atone for things you can't remember. So, do I have to worry about the mob now? Am I on their hit list?"
Gordon continued to study him. He put the notebook back in his pocket. "I don't think so. Banks has his own axe to grind with the mob boys. He was trying to score some points but from what I learned since Terror Night, the mob doesn't want anything to do with you."
Jonathan's eyebrows rose, "Don't tell me the mob is afraid of the Scarecrow?"
"I think…" Gordon paused, "I think, that between you and your "shadowy friends", you spooked them. They might be criminals but in the end, they're running a business and it's not good business to kill all your customers." Gordon leaned back, "My guess is that this wasn't sanctioned. I wouldn't expect a repeat performance. At least, not from the mob."
Wonderful, now he could just go back to obsessing about all the other people he hurt. Jonathan didn't know if that should make him feel better or not. The mob… and who else was out there? He frowned.
"The treatment didn't seem to alter your ability to defend yourself. Minus the toxin, of course."
Jonathan's eyes locked across the table with Gordon's. This man had been his enemy. While according to television reports, it was a costumed vigilante that in the end had brought him down, he was the police commissioner. Treatment or not, this man had no reason to trust anything that he said. And what could he really say? Yeah, I tried to blind the guy. "You have the video, there's really nothing more that I can add. I defended myself."
Gordon took his glasses off and held them up to the light. He inspected each lens in turn. "Mm, yes. Quite effectively."
Bradshaw spoke up, "Jim. There's no need to beleaguer the point."
"I hope you know what you're doing, Allen." He looked at Jonathan. "I really hope you do, for all our sakes." Gordon stood. "I think, I know everything I need to know. You don't have to worry, Doctor Crane. As you said, the video is pretty clear. Thank you for your time." He nodded to Bradshaw.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Jonathan rubbed at his wrists absently, the faint mark left behind by the cuffs nearly faded. Bradshaw was making new arrangements, whatever those were to be. Bruce had been solicitous but there had been something strange in his eyes. Something dangerous that he couldn't quite put his finger on but it was familiar. He was just glad for a little alone time. Time to put things in perspective.
He hadn't been afraid, not during any of it. Should that concern him? Perhaps. Of more concern might be the fact that the violence of the incidence had been easy for him. There was a familiarity to it, as if his mind might not be able to remember but his body did, a sense memory. There were footsteps outside the door. Carl poked his head in, "Doctor Crane?" He slipped inside and closed the door behind him.
Jonathan smiled lightly, "Hello, Carl."
Carl returned the smile, "You sure have stirred up a hornet's nest. Mister Wayne is not someone you want to get on his bad side, that's for sure."
"Yes, seems like I'm still causing trouble doesn't it?"
"I wouldn't worry about it too much." Carl leaned casually against the wall. "There's trouble and then there's trouble, know what I mean?"
Oh yeah, he knew exactly what he meant. "Like when I was running around in a burlap mask, you mean?"
Carl shrugged, "Like I said, I never had issues with you."
Jonathan cocked his head. Was that some sort of complicit approval of his past actions? Perhaps he needed to reassess his opinion of Carl. "I appreciate all you've done for me. I mean that. Is Mister Wayne nearly finished beating everyone into submission?"
Carl chuckled, "Nearly." He looked to the door and back. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this but…"
Jonathan tensed slightly. "Anything you care to impart, I would be grateful."
"They want to get you out of here. Soon as possible. Strange has been setting you up as proof of concept for that new machine of his, so he's been backing your release too. You got a lot of people on your side."
"My release? You must be joking." He had supporters? Who and more importantly why? Bruce, he could understand. Then again, he had a hard time understanding that relationship as well. Now he had supporters. Why would anyone want to push to get him released?
Carl shook his head. "Strange has been pushing it from the beginning. He says for the treatment to fully progress that you need to get back into a normal routine. And well, with someone like Bruce Wayne backing you, I'm thinking, it's gonna happen sooner rather than later."
This was news to him. It had only been a couple of months since the treatment. How could Strange or anyone else for that matter sign off on his state of mind? He couldn't say he actually cared much, as long as he could get as far from Arkham Asylum as possible. "Thank you for telling me."
"No worries, Doc. Just remember you didn't hear anything from me."
